


Summer, Leather and Milkshakes

by heartof_paper, Midding_Rain



Category: South Park
Genre: 60s setting, Alternate Universe, Bikers, F/F, F/M, Gangs, M/M, Surfers, but not the bad kind, high school is ending and the one thing on their mind is sex, it's summer time kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 02:32:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17092391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartof_paper/pseuds/heartof_paper, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midding_Rain/pseuds/Midding_Rain
Summary: The heat of summer can bring out all sorts of hidden tension.The kind of heated tension that is let out through brawls.Or the kind of heat that drives post-pubescent teenagers crazy.It's summer in the 60s/70s in South Park, and it's going to be one heck of a ride. Wide and sandy beaches, family friendly bars and coffee, country fresh, like the morning after a rainstorm.





	Summer, Leather and Milkshakes

**Author's Note:**

> We are so excited to finally share this fic! It's something Rain and I have been gushing over for ages and it's something we care a lot about. 
> 
> We've worked on this together as a team, this AU and the whole idea was created by Rain, and she suggested that I write it, and I felt so honoured! Not only that but she did some writing in this chapter too!
> 
> This fic is pretty self indulgent, so that means lots of fluff and lots of tension! (sexual included).

He brought his wrist to his face, using the sweat band to wipe the sweat that threatened to drip into his eyes.

The air was drenched in the stench of sweat, heat and grease. Even with the breeze entering from the open door of the oversized garage, the dry heat of summer didn’t do much to help cool the place down. The tinkering and use of tools and occasional bursts of laughter filled the space with white noise, the ideal working condition for the blond that was situated in front of the opened hood of a 1951 Muntz Jet. 

From a distance he heard the shouting of a higher-up, calling to the boy’s attention.

“Hey Kenny! You finished with the Muntz?”

The boy stood up straight, pursing his lips as he looked over the work he had done. “Uh yeah! I’m just finishing up.”

“Well, someone just showed up and I’m going to need for you to take a look at it.”

Kenny didn’t reply because there was no need, it was obvious that he was going to look at it, he had to. He reached towards the hand towel that hung over the edge of the hood and flung it on his shoulder in case he needed it for his next job. Before he left he closed the hood of the Muntz, taking its key to the usual deposit, hanging it on an open hook, making sure the tag with the licence plate was still attached to the key ring. 

As he approached the entry of the garage he passed a group of his co-workers on break, who each looked at him and respectively gave him the middle finger, which Kenny gladly returned with a smile. Turning back to continue their conversation, Kenny made it to the front where he found a boy clad in leather, fussing with his throw-over saddle bag. Kenny approached from behind, not on purpose even if his mind argues otherwise. The boy didn’t even seem to notice his presence, still looking through his bag and whispering to himself.

“Hey,” Kenny greeted, amusement plastered on his face when he saw the boy jump slightly from the abrupt voice and hastily turned around to face him. The shock was still evident on his face, but eventually morphed into a relaxed, somewhat adorable, smile.

“Heya, um, are you Kenny? The other guy said you could help me with my bike.”

As Kenny nodded his gaze fell to the bike that stood beside the shorter boy with tufts of pale blond hair. His aloof smile fell, his lips parting in mild surprise as his eyebrows shot up animatedly. He circled the motorcycle, confirming that it was indeed the model he thought it was.

“This is an AJS 18? But the production was discontinued in ‘66! How do you have this, it looks brand new?” The look of genuine interest and intrigue on the mechanic’s face was somewhat alluring to the owner of the bike. 

The boy’s smile grew as he circled around the bike to join Kenny’s side.

“Yeah it is!” He beamed proudly. “It was my uncle’s but he never rode it, so he gave it to me for my birthday ‘cause he knew that I may be a little bike-curious… okay, very bike-curious! My dad didn’t take to the idea of me riding a bike all that well but he’s on his way of accepting it.”

Kenny’s eyes rolled to the side, looking at the customer through the corner of his eyes. How was someone that wore black leather jackets and rode an accessorised motorbike be such a pure ray of sunshine? That smile and those dimples were seriously killing him. 

Before the silence lingered any longer Kenny cleared his throat. “So, why don’t you tell me what is wrong with your machine, and maybe give me your name?”

The boy giggled, “it’s Butters.” Then he stopped his giggling and frowned, placing his hands on his hips and shifting all his weight on one leg. Kenny tried to not trace the shape of his figure as Butters hummed. “There's a lot of smoke coming from the tail pipe. I’ve taken a look at it myself to try and fix the problem but I couldn't find it.”

“Hmm okay, can I have the key, please?”

Butters nodded his head and opened up the pocket on the front of his jacket, taking out the key and handed it to Kenny. With the key he turned on the ignition and the bike roared to life. He watched as smoke sputtered out of the pipe that ran along the bottom side of the bike, continuing to spout smoke. Kenny inched closer to the bike before slinging his leg over the body and stabilized himself with both his feet touching the ground albeit with his toes, keeping the stand undocked. Kenny turned his head around and looked at the smoke that still continued to escape.

Butters chewed on his bottom lip, brows slightly furrowed. “Y’know you don’ have to sit on it.”

Kenny’s eyes lifted to look straight into Butters’ gaze, eyes slightly lidded as his lips crawled up into a dangerous smirk. He drawled, “I know.” With his left hand gripping the clutch, his hand that gripped the right handle twisted it, causing the engine to rev and his body to vibrate, and his eyes sparked when he saw the boy’s eyes flicker to his ass that sat firmly on the seat, even if it were only half a second. 

Butters nodded with his lack of words before finally gaining the ability to speak. “Uh, sure, just don’ put too much pressure on her or anythin’.”

Laughter erupted from the young mechanic as he unmounted the bike, patting the seat of the AJS. “Don’t worry, I was only kidding.” 

A deep exhale escaped Butters’ lips followed by a breathy chuckle. Kenny directed him to a seat closeby where he could watch him work. There was no point in the customer leaving because Kenny was sure it was an easy fix and wouldn’t take more than twenty minutes. 

Butters did watch him work, with worried eyes. He hardly let anyone touch his bike. Bringing it to a repair shop was a last resort. Though he could have brought it to his friends in the gang but he didn’t trust them with his bike anymore than he did with a qualified mechanic, so he chose the safest option: taking it to a professional. But he wasn’t sure if this Kenny guy was a professional, he seemed a bit young to be working on motor vehicles let alone be a pro at it, Butters might even go as far as to say he was the same age as him. 

Kenny was right in saying that it wouldn’t take more than twenty minutes to fix the problem. When he turned the bike on it was clear the issue was resolved. Butters was pleased to see his machine working perfectly again and also a little embarrassed that he wasn’t able to figure out was wrong with it himself, but he buried that deep down. 

He jumped from the seat and jogged the few steps to meet Kenny. He rested his hand on one of the handles as he looked up into the taller boy’s eyes. Butters’ smile reached his eyes, his cheeks speckled with a dimple on both sides. Deep inside Kenny’s chest his heart fluttered at the sight. 

“Thank you for fixing her up for me,” Butters thanked, putting the hand that wasn’t on the bike handle behind his back out of habit. “What’s the price?”

Kenny nodded his head in thought, tapping his fingers on his thigh. “It’s not usually up to me to decide,” Kenny stated, “most of the time you would pay out the front before bringing your vehicle back here, but I guess it isn’t the case this time ‘round.”

Butters chewed on his bottom lip as he listened to Kenny. 

Kenny looked straight into the biker’s eyes, lips slowly curving up into something more than an innocent grin. He slipped his hands into the back pockets of his jeans as he stepped closer to Butters. 

“You’re lucky that I’m in charge of the price for the fee, and since I’m in a good mood I could give you a discount.”

Butters’ eyes widened, mouth falling agape in shock as a noise almost like a gasp came from his throat. He shook his head from side to side before gathering his wit. “What? No, I have to pay you. You fixed my bike, I need to pay you enough for it since you took care of her!”

“Mmh okay, I make a discount and in exchange you buy me something to drink during my break? I’m curious about you and this beauty.” Kenny turned his head to glance at the clock attached to a wall, grinning at the time. He turned back to look at the pale blond boy with a happy and cheshire grin. “And it turns out I’m due for a break.”

Butters lifted his hand to his lips to giggle into, eyes closed lightly with his lashes splayed across his chubby cheeks. He nodded his head as he brought his hand away from his mouth, taking a breath. 

“Sure thing, that’s somethin’ I can do. But ’m not sure what you like, Kenny.”

The place the taller blond had in mind was already on his tongue. It was a place he always went to with his friends, even though sometimes·he doesn’t have the luxury to buy anything, it was still a nice place to hang out with his gang. 

“I know a place with the best milkshakes money can buy. It’s a favorite of mine.”

Butters chuckled. He flicked up the stand with his foot and threw his leg over the bike, sitting firmly on the seat. He looked at Kenny as he reached for his helmet that hung from the right handle. He watched as the mechanic’s eyes briefly glanced downwards and back up with his eyes slightly wider than before. 

“Sounds like a plan then.”

Then he placed the helmet over his head, doing up the straps. He flicked up the tinted visor, “there a helmet you can use?” 

Kenny’s mouth went dry. He wasn’t opposed to riding a motorbike, but he wasn’t going to let the fact that he didn’t have a helmet ruin the chance to be pressed up against this boy on a death machine. He pursed his lips and looked around the garage, not really looking for anything but wanted to appear as if he was actually looking for a helmet that may miraculously be lying around on its own, begging to be placed on the boy’s head and taken on a joyride. He wasn’t going to just use someone’s helmet that they might be needing while he’s using it, but he’s known for being quite the rebellious teen.

He looked back at Butters who waited patiently on his bike, his legs shifting as to not cramp up in their position. His smirk reflected in his eyes which just screamed  _ ‘bad’ _ . 

“I don’t need a helmet. It’s a quick ride, we’ll take the calmest road.”

Butters’ mouth fell open but he quickly closed it, following up with a hum. “Okay,” he replied softly. Kenny grinned taking a few steps before he was able to sit on the cushioned space behind Butters, placing his hands on the other’s shoulders. Butters turned his head slightly so Kenny could hear him better through his helmet. “You’re goin’ to have tell me the directions as we ride,” Butters stated, “and you’ll ‘ave to shout ‘em, it’s hard to hear with the helmet on, especially on the road.”

Kenny replied with affirmation. 

“Oh, and one more thing. Lean with me, it makes it easier to turn.”

Kenny didn’t get a chance to reply because the rumble of the engine turning on cut him off. Butters muttered a ‘hold on’ before shutting his visor on his helmet. He gently accelerated before placing his feet on the foot pegs and speeding up, guiding the bike out of the garage. Kenny struggled at the back, difficulty trying to find a space to place his feet as it wasn’t supposed to seat two people. 

As they made it onto the road, Kenny became accustomed to the idea of keeping his knees bent with no support, the muscles he’s built up in his thighs making it easier. His fingers tensed on the shoulders of the boy in front of him. The urge to snake his arms around the other’s waist was hard to push away, but he didn’t want to over step his boundaries, especially to Butters who has been nothing but kind. So, instead, he tightened his grip as the other sped up as the speed limit changed. 

As suspected, the road was calm with only a few cars driving by, none of the drivers giving them a single glance. It eased Kenny up a bit because even though he acted like he didn’t respect the law, being cuffed by the police is the last thing he wanted. But, on the other hand, the cops of South Park don’t know how - or simply just don’t - do their job. 

As time passed, so did the scenery. Leaves of forest green blended like strokes of a paint brush to smoothly transition to the crystal crashing of sea salt onto golden glass. In the distance, on the edge of deep blue, situated on the green sprinkling over the sand, the place that felt like home to Kenny more than his house ever did. The place that takes credit for the best milkshakes this side of the galaxy.

As Butters turned into the small car park on the side of the diner, the purposeful graffiti along the wall and out front advertised the name of the quaint restaurant:  _ Chef’s Place.  _ Butters parked his bike but made no attempt to move, his left foot fully planted in the ground, taking the weight of the bike. After a few seconds he reached up to remove the helmet from his head and rested it in his lap. 

“It’s awesome,” Butters breathed before he let out a soft chuckle. He turned his head to look at the boy behind him through the corner of his eye. “You know you ‘ave to get off before I can.”

Scarlet danced secretly along Kenny’s cheeks as he grinned in a way that caused his eyes to crinkle. He swiftly slid his way off the bike, and in the following seconds Butters had flipped out the stand, standing by his side with his head practically inside his saddle bag. A sound like ‘ah ha!’ reverberated through the bag, slightly muffled as Butters brought his face back into the world, taking his hand out along with it, holding a wallet between his fingers. 

He looked at Kenny with a toothy grin. “It’s milkshake time!”

Kenny returned the gesture with a smile of his own, biting the bullet by placing his hand on Butters’ head and ruffling the pale blond locks. The darker blond tried to hide the way his brows shot up underneath his fringe, his mind traitorously repeating ‘ _ it’s soft _ ’ like a mantra. 

The soft blond was caught by surprise but he soon lightly chuckled before he escaped the grasp to make his way to the entry. He shot an amused grin toward Kenny. He was stunned for a moment before he jogged toward him with a shared smile.

“You come here often?” The biker pipped curiously.

“Almost every day, if I don’t work I usually hang out at the beach with my friends,” he replied, sharing a glance with him and Butters just hummed back. The look he gave to Kenny made him want to ask him where he was usually. Not that he planned to follow him but he can be interested in a cute blond. 

 

_ He was _ . 

 

He had the reflex to look around them to catch the entry of the diner in front of them. He instinctively accelerated his path to be the first at the door. Butters blinked curiously - without decreasing his pace - at him when he saw that he was holding the door for him. Kenny couldn’t go back, even if now he was feeling embarrassed. It wasn’t a proper date but he did it anyway and he was glad that a soft thanks came to his ear when the smaller blond entered the diner.

The place wasn’t full but still pretty alive. Kenny scanned quickly around to see if one of his friends was here but he saw no familiar faces except the back of the cook who must be making milkshakes.

The fresh and relaxing atmosphere looked good for Butters who just softly gasped after taking a few steps inside. The light against the walls and the jukebox’s sound were soft and inviting them to take a seat.

“It’s so pretty,” he softly exclaimed before he went to see some of the surfboards on one of the walls. Kenny followed him with a small desire to tell him that he is cute to be so marveled by it.

His hands were rubbing as his eyes were still wandering between every decoration. The taller blond wondered if he should already take a booth to have a good view of the whole diner but he felt better beside him.

“Oh geez, sorry,” Butters felt suddenly conscious because he didn’t earn any response, “sorry I got caught up, I forgot you’re on a break.” He breathed a chuckle and Kenny smiled widely at him.

“No problem,” he shrugged before he made a sign to the counter, “I have time, don’t worry about that. Worst case I just get fired.”

“Oh no, I don’ want you to get fired Kenny! I just got t’ meet you today!” He exclaimed with slight worry as his hands were still rubbing, cutting his ‘bad boy in leather’ image.

“I won’t,” he tried to reassure with a sincere smile but a chuckle escaped him. He tapped on the counter when they both made their way toward the person behind it. “Hey Chef, what’s up?”

The cook turned around with a small smile before he grinned. “Hello Kenny, everything’s good,” the deep but reassuring voice greeted before he looked at his comrade.

“Hm hello sir! I’m Butters,” he quickly said before he smiled sheepishly, “I heard you make the best milkshakes.”

Chef laughed at the compliment. “I try. So two milkshakes for you, children? A strawberry one for you, Kenny?”

“Yup, as usual boss.”

“Oh, me too! A strawberry one,” Butters smiled at Chef when he glanced at him.

“Strawberry too?”

“Yeah, it’s my favorite flavor,” he cheerfully said.

“Me too!”

The two blonds gasped as they looked to each other before they laughed at the coincidence.

“Alright children, I will bring that to you,” Chef said with a small amusement as he gave a sly look to Kenny who decided to avoid it by choosing a booth.

“Can we go to the one next to the jukebox?” Butters asked with a pronounced excitation before he directly went to the jukebox.

Kenny was happy with his choice. The booth was usually the one he and the rest of the gang usually take to pass the time in the confortable diner.

He looked at the back of the blond who looked fascinated by the various songs available. The blond used the opportunity to slide in the booth and to have a view of his face.

“You can change it if you want, you know?”

“Mmh, I’m fine with this one,” he replied looking at him before he joined him in the booth. He did it slowly because he was looking at the other surfboards on the wall next to them. One was far different from the other. While most of the piece had clear painting on pictures on it, another one was mostly a white but a lot of various drawings and notes. Clear two orange lines where in the middle of the length but the rest was more creative. They were small clouds, stars, hearts and other simple symbols alike; they seemed childish but it was a charming side.

“What is it?” Kenny wondered before he cocked an eyebrow curiously when their eyes met.

“This surfboard is cute, I like this one,” Butters explained pointing at it. “There is even small notes. Is there written ‘Guardian angel’?” He squinted his eyes to be sure but he glanced to the other blond who was leaning against the booth to have a view on the subject.

“Yes and on the other side, on the left it’s ‘Princess’.”

“That’s sweet. Is it the boss’ surfboard?”

“Oh no, that’s mine.” Butters gasped at the new information before he glanced between the surfboard and the blond, who smiled at his surprise. “My little sister mostly decorated it.”

“No way!” The shorter exclaimed with a big smile as he seemed to look for more details. “You’re her guardian angel?”

“Yeah, also the princess is because I once dressed as a princess for a game when I was a child,” Kenny explained without really thinking of the image it could give him, “I leave it here so it’s— closer to the beach. Chef doesn’t mind.”

“That’s cool, you surf a lot?” He nodded at his question before Butters giggled after a short moment. “Sorry, I jus’ find that really cute that your sister did it. I wish I had a sister or brother.”

“You are all alone?”

“Mmh yeah. But it’s fine.”

Kenny looked at the blond biker who was rubbing his knuckles against each other, he guessed that must be a nervous tic so he tried to bring something on the table.

“What about your nicknames? You already know two of mine after all,” he said, “does Butters have a lame nickname that I need to know?” He gladly smiled at the small amused huff from the cute blond.

“Actually, my real name is Leopold. But ev’ryone calls me Butters.”

“Really? Why ‘Butters’?”

“No idea, it jus’ stuck. My parents once told me that it’s because my hair has the same color as butter and it’s soft,” he explained with small rosy cheeks and Kenny couldn’t really disagree on the last point. He, himself, slightly blushed at the small memory his fingers has from the contact earlier. Chef cut them off by sliding them two beautiful pink milkshakes but the blond was still craving to touch more of the pale blond locks. Instead, he wrapped his fingers around his milkshake, the cold glass wet with condensation a welcome distraction for the itch in his skin to place his hand on the head of sunflowers in front of him.

He looked at his drink, taking a sip before looking back at Butters. The sight almost making him snort the pink drink from his nose, but luckily he avoided that pain by choking on it instead. Butters’ lips left the straw as he heard the commotion in front of him, eyebrows raised in concern and question. He was met with a finger pointed at him as Kenny threw his head over the top of the booth chair, shoulders shaking with laughter that erupted happily from his chest. Kenny brought his head back, laughter dying down a tad so he could attempt to get words to come out of his mouth. 

“Your cheeks, you look like a chipmunk!”

In response, Butters’ cheeks tinted pink, swallowing the milkshake he stored in his mouth his cheeks deflated. He grinned childishly, a small giggle bubbling from his chest. Together they laughed harmoniously, voices entwining together like a duet in an elementary school performance. Not quite perfect in key, but a fun experience shared between the two on stage. 

Their laughter died down after a bit. Both faces flushed and chests heaved as they took bigger gulps of air. Butters’ turned his gaze to the side, lips shaped in a meek smile. He grabbed a loose lock of hair that hung in his face and weaved it behind his ear, the tint to his cheeks remaining in full color. 

Kenny’s eyes never left it’s sight on the biker. As he lowered his head to grasp the straw between his lips, he looked through his lashes at Butters whose profile was highlighted by the light that filtered through the window at their booth. Kenny’s gaze flickered from the shape of the boy’s eyes to the upturned nose and down to his plump lips. As he sucked his milkshake through the straw, the corner of his mouth raised slightly into the most purest of smiles. The kind he gave to his sister who he loves so deeply, but in this case it was…  _ different. _

 

* * *

 

“And-and, his eyes! Like, the most purest baby blue that I have ever seen. I couldn’t-”

“Look away. We know, you’ve talked about his eyes, and pretty much everything, countless times Kenny,” Stan interrupted, finishing with a sigh. He looked to his side, sharing a glance with Token who only shrugged at the overly excited teen clad in board shorts and glistening in the sun with the rays reflecting the sunscreen covering his body. 

“Hey, you can’t blame me. He was a fine piece of ass who owned a fucking motorbike, can you believe that?!” Kenny threw his hands in the air in over-exaggeration. 

“Yes, Kenny, we can. You’ve only mentioned it to  _ everyone  _ that this mysterious ‘man meat’ you met owns a death machine,” Stan grumbled, crossing his arms over his bare chest, bored with the topic of conversation.

“I can still remember Cartman’s face when you mentioned that your date had a motorbike,” Clyde joined in, snickering as he tried not to crack into an uncontrollable laughing fit, “he was trying to act like he didn’t care about that motorbike. But we all know he’s jealous because he doesn’t have one himself.” 

Jimmy snorted, leaning forward on his crutches. “Even if h-he had a b-b-bi-bike, it would just br-, it would bre-break beneath him.”

The five of them cracked into ugly laughter, snorts mixed with hiccups as it poured from their throats, Craig walking over to them from the ocean, surfboard under his arm. Stan stood up straight from his hunched position, catching a blur of a person running towards them, the air filled with shouts and curses.

“Speaking of which, here's the tub of lard now.”

They all turned to look in the direction of the squeaking voice, watching the shirtless chubby man run from the path near the road, his man boobs bouncing caused the group to giggle. 

“Guys! Hey, you guys!” He reached the boys and bent over, hands on his knees as he took in huge and loud gulps of air. He groaned as he straightened back up. With one last inhale he threw his pointer finger in the direction of the diner that they hung out at regularly and shouted, “there’s a fucking biker gang at the diner, and they’re sitting in  _ our _ spot!”

In response, the group of boys shared incredulous looks and Craig raised a brow. Stan squinted at Cartman, “okay, so? We don’t own the place.”

The chubby brunet scoffed, “yeah, but like, they’re our age. And there’s a ginger!” 

The statement caught their attention, bypassing the ginger comment. They hadn’t seen anyone in their school that were part of a biker gang, but it may be because it was the start of summer that they were there. 

“I’m c-c-curious,” Jimmy spoke up, looking between him at the other guys whom silently decided that they would take a look at who turned up at the diner. As the guys started toward the concrete pathway, Kenny turned around and called to Wendy and Nichole who sat beside the cooler. They stood up, brushing off the sand as they followed the boys.

They all caught up outside the doors of the diner, looking through the glass and seeing the many people in leather seated in their usual booths. 

“There’s so many…” Clyde whispered. Token nodded beside him and pushed open the glass door, holding it open for the others to enter. After they all piled in they stood staring at the commotion, watching as a scrunched up napkin was thrown over a booth to hit a scraggly blond.

As he yelped and growled the group at the door shared looks, the dark toned girl piping up from behind the wall of men, “I don’t see the problem, they look nice- oof.”

Nichole was interrupted by an elbow to the stomach as Jimmy was pushed into her, a collection of groans as the biggest of all the bodies pushed his way to the front. They all gasped before the disaster they knew was going to happen set its course, too late to stop it.

“Hey fags! That’s where  _ we _ sit.” 

The silence in the room was deafening. Most of the bodies in leather turned their heads simultaneously, all of them with narrowed eyes except one. Kenny gasped as he recognised that one to be the blond he took to this very diner only a few days ago, and pale pink painted a line across his cheeks and over his nose. 

“Now Eric, they’re patrons and can sit wherever they please.” Chef turned around from behind the counter to look at Cartman and the tension he created, but Cartman wasn’t listening to him and instead honed in on the soft but deep gasp from closeby. He turned to look for who emitted the noise but was distracted by the blooming pink on Kenny’s face. He attempted to follow his line of sight which landed him on the blond that stood next to the jukebox. 

Cartman blinked for a few times before turning his body to face the dusty blond behind him.

“Kenny don’t tell me  _ that’s _ the blond biker you’ve been talking non-stop about!” 

He noticed two bodies stiffen at his words; Kenny as he suspected, but Craig uncharacteristically stiffened after he spoke. 

Stan gulped as his eyes landed on a piercing gaze, not directed at him but he still could feel the heat hundred fold, even if those eyes are under a head of red locks, the color just adds to the ferocity even more in his opinion. But for Cartman, the fact that he was a  _ ginger  _ distracted him from whatever fear that gaze could enforce. 

“It’s ‘cause of your fucking boyfriend that they’re here! He went like a rat to his pals and brought them to our place.”

“Dude, fu-”

“What the  _ fuck  _ did you say, fatass?”

The group at the front all pointed their gazes at the red head who slowly stood from his seat and placed his hands on the table on either side of his milkshake. Cartman only glared, his mouth opening as to say something but was distracted by a conversation that was happening beside the fiery ginger. 

Two blonds bickering to each other, one a woman with perfectly curled hair and face made up, her lips a bright scarlet, pushing a milkshake over to the other blond who was a man who twitched and growled at the gesture when she took away the drink that was originally in front of him.

“Come on Tweek, try a different flavor that isn’t coffee for once.”

“No! Salted caramel tastes like ass.”

A fuse broke in the overly opinionated chubby man. He took a step closer as his cheeks puffed up and grew red.

“Oi, you fucking twink, what gives you the right to diss the best fucking milkshake flavor there is? It’s not only an insult to me, but also to Chef who made you that drink!” Cartman bellowed, making the blond slightly jump in his seat as he looked at him with big green eyes.

A girl stood up from off the floor who was sat beside a boy had an arm around her back. Her hair a blinding red, a sight that almost made Cartman gag. She stomped over to stand only a few inches from the asshole, jabbing her finger in his soft chest.

“What gives you the right to speak that way to my friends,” she growled, glaring intensely into Cartman’s eyes before flickering to a person behind him. Her eyes widening upon landing on a familiar face.

“Craig?” she inquired slowly.

The boy in question caught her gaze, taken off guard as he was staring at someone else. 

“Red?” he mimicked in the same tone, mainly to be an asshole and piss her off, but also because he was surprised to see her.

“I can’t believe this,” she groaned, taking a step back, “my own  _ cousin _ is hanging out with the likes of  _ him.”  _  Red spat before turning on her heel and joining back to the side of a boy with small chinese-like features. He placed back his hand on her back as they were before she left, and shared a look with her as she sipped her chocolate milkshake.  

Cartman was unfazed by the interaction but instead shivered, “I can’t believe there are  _ two _ gingers.”

A loud and deep, angry growl filled the diner, silencing any noise that may have been emitted prior. By the way the people around the standing red head turned to look at him stated that the noise came from him. 

“I’ve had enough of this prick,” he scowled, sliding out from the booth and standing perfectly in line with Cartman a few metres away. It was quiet, and it was a scene that made the people expect a tumbleweed to roll on by, the position of the two boys perfect for a quick draw. 

Sick of the silence and lack of action, Kyle took slow but menacing steps towards the fat sack of crap but was stopped in his tracks by a hand that grabbed his leather jacket. He was pulled back a bit by the sudden stop and turned to see Heidi, someone who he came to appreciate with her blunt words of wisdom. 

She frowned, shaking her head slightly and placing a hand on Butters shoulder. “You shouldn't fight,” she said, “especially in a place like this.”

Kyle sighed. “I know.” He took the shades that were sat upon his head and held it in front of Heidi for her to take. “But this fucker and his crew needs to learn somehow.” He turned and walked swiftly over to Cartman, his right arm hovering at his waist. Panic rippled in Cartman's eyes and he grabbed Stan who was the closest to him and threw him at the quickly approaching biker. 

Their bodies bumped and without thinking of trying to stop his track, Stan was right against him. The table shook at the sudden contact and the raven surfer heard the milkshakes noises but he didn’t even look away from the person he just trapped between him and the table.

Stan stiffened at the fact that his chest was against the biker’s one and bared his teeth in a nervous smile, “hi.”

The redhead looked confused, enough to stop the glare he has been now giving to Stan.

From behind, Cartman yelled, “hey Stan, remember what you said about their bikes? Like you thought they were ugly or overrated?”

Kyle growled, “you little-”

“CHILDREN! I don't tolerate any sort of violence here. If you are to fight I will have to kick you out. And I don't permit fighting outside the building either.” Chef slammed his hand on the counter top, giving the two groups of teenagers the stink eye before going through the door that lead to the kitchen. 

Kyle lowered his arm that he had raised, ready to strike a blow to the raven's face. He clicked his tongue before pushing Stan off him by the shoulders and got off the table. He turned around, having his back face the other gang that soiled their afternoon.

“How about an arm wrestle instead?” a voice called out from the front of the carrot top. He looked up and was met with Bebe’s raised brow, a devilish smirk on her face because she knew he had this tension that needed to be released. He grinned in favor of Bebe’s suggestion, sliding into the seat he was in before. He rested his right elbow on the table, squinting at the group that kept their position at the door. He didn’t voice an agreement, but the position of his arm was enough of a sign that this was something the fiery teen wanted. 

The group looked at eachother, sharing weary looks before Cartman groaned and pushed Stan towards the table. The others followed after them, wanting a closer view of the pure demolition of the raven, knowing that he wasn’t exactly strong in the arms. 

The seat across from Kyle was empty but Stan hesitated at the table. He really didn’t want to do this. He hasn’t been able to breathe properly since he laid eyes on this guy, but now he has to hold his hand?  _ No way man, screw that. _ But before he could escape, someone pushed him into the seat and blocked his way of getting out of it. He finally realised his situation and his hands become clammy in his lap, his stomach churning and throat itching. The intense glare that Kyle threw his way only doubled his nerves. Mouth becoming dry he stared at the open hand, ready for Stan to clasp it, but the boy wasn’t making it easy, especially since his gaze was so unwelcoming. But he knew that stalling wasn’t going to make it an easier, in fact it would make it worse because something about this boy made Stan think he wasn’t filled to the brim with patience. 

So, despite his wishes he slowly raised his own arm, lowering it onto the table with his palm ready to clasp the other’s. All the while his body temperature rose as he cursed the situation he was forced into. 

_ Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck.

His hand molded into Kyle’s. His sweaty and thin while Kyle’s was soft but also dry, no sign of nerves but pooled confidence that was easily felt like an aura around him. Stan felt Kyle’s grip tighten and it sent a shock wave through his arm to his chest and down to his stomach. He knew it meant that it was the start of the wrestle but he really wished he hadn’t done that. 

Because as people started cheering and chanting the names of either participant, his stomach only growls more ferociously. The amount of exertion he put into fighting against the push of the other’s hand brought him to the edge. And the tight squeeze against his hand that only meant Kyle was putting more strength into it but felt like he was holding on to dear life pushed him over that edge. 

He can’t remember what he had for breakfast that morning, but he hopes it was appetizing. Because he knew what was coming and there was no way of stopping it, the only thing he could do before it happened was widen his eyes in fear. 

The sound of a stomach spilling its guts disrupted the cheers of both groups. It was somewhat projectile and went further than he would have wanted. Well, what he wanted was for this to not happen at all but he has a weak stomach for the hot kind. 

Stan’s friends stepped away from the table, disgust showing on their faces. He noticed Nichole ran through the door to the kitchen but was too focused on the chunks of food mixed with acidic fluids that covered the table, his hand and Kyle’s coated in it, and some landed on his jacket.

From the side Clyde groaned, “oh god, I think I’m going to barf,” before walking away. Token muttering an ‘oh shit’ before following after him. A gasp from beside Kyle and a breathy exclamation about his jacket broke him out of whatever dissociative trance he was in.

As soon as Kyle felt the warmth on his hand after the eruption of sound he pulled his hand from Stan’s, his nose scrunched up and brows deeply furrowed that a few lines appeared on his forehead. The look on his face horrified Stan because he really didn’t want a broken nose. Before Stan could state his apology, Kyle abruptly stood up and reached for Stan’s neck with his clean hand, gripping the shark tooth necklace and tugging his head forward. With that angle Kyle brought his vomit covered arm backward, readying himself for the blow.

“This is for my jacket,” he spat, throwing his arm back that extra inch. But before he could swing it forward a deep voice called out for him to stop. Ignoring the fear on Stan’s face he turned to look in the direction of the voice to see the boss stood with his arms crossed against his chest, the dark skinned girl standing beside him with worry etched across her face and a towel in her hand. 

“I’ve had enough of your behaviour, you’re acting like children! I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he said with a tone that hinted to his disappointment before turning around and taking place behind the counter. 

Kyle shot one last piercing glare to Stan as he pushed him back into his chair and left his seat, pushing his way through the other group and making his way to the door. The other bikers followed after him while the other gang waited for them to leave before making their departure. Butters was among them but before leaving the diner he glanced over his shoulder, sharing a sad look with Kenny before walking out the door. At the interaction a frown found a place on his face, his heart shrinking at whatever they look may have meant.  But before exiting, Bebe stopped. She heaved a breath before sighing, “screw it.”

She pivoted and stalked back over to the other group with fast speed. With her eyes on Cartman she raised her fist and swung it across his face, causing blood to dribble from his nose as he squealed. As she turned to head out she heard a soft ‘wow’ being uttered by a feminine voice. Bebe turned her head to look at the girl with the long black hair and winked before making her exit and rounding the corner to where her bike was parked.

“Wait. Fuck! Come here you bitch, I have to teach you a lesson!” Cartman screamed even though she wouldn’t hear him.

“It’s too late Cartman, knock it off,” Wendy sighed. 

Jimmy whistled, unsure of what to do considering the circumstance.

“See guys,” Cartman groaned at the pain the movement of his mouth caused to his nose, “I told you they were assholes.”

They collectively rolled their eyes and made for the door, Kenny slapping the back of Cartman’s head as he walked past them, putting all of his annoyance and distaste into that hit because he was afraid that Cartman may have just screwed up his chance with Butters.

And Craig could concur that statement with another blond in that group. 

Cartman whimpered as he followed them out the door, catching sight on Stan he narrowed his eyes. “Good job on controlling your gay feelings Stan.” 

**Author's Note:**

> We would love to hear your thoughts if you have the spare time! Not necessary but it's always lovely.   
> We would just like to know what you think of our precious baby! (it's like our Stripe, at least to me XD).


End file.
